Interludes
by Mreeb
Summary: Mass Effect: Interludes is a series of drabbles and short stories about my latest Spacer, Jaime Shepard, that take place before, between, during, and after the Mass Effect games. They are all a part of my headcanon for her. Rated T for language.
1. Called to the Office

**Mass Effect: Interludes** _is a series of drabbles and short stories about my new Spacer, Jaime Shepard, that take place before, between, and after the _Mass Effect_ games. They are all a part of my headcanon for her._

_Disclaimer: The universe and characters belong to BioWare, EA, and the _Mass Effect_ team. I'm just playing around with them._

**#1: Called to the Office**

_In honour of Shepard's birthday, I thought I would post a short I wrote about Jaime: Hannah Shepard is called to her daughter's high school principle's office for a meeting. Jaime Shepard's disruptive behaviour, however, is not the only thing that has brought her mother home._

_Jaime's in-game progress at time of writing: Conceived and headcanoned, but not yet created in-game._

* * *

**March 29, 2171**

Hannah Shepard's sixteen-year-old daughter was already in Dr. Foster's office when she arrived at Arcturus Collegiate, the largest of three high schools on the station of the same name.

"Lt. Shepard, I assume," said Dr. Foster, standing as Hannah entered. "Please, have a seat." He gestured to one of two chairs, the other filled by Jaime Shepard. Hannah's only child glanced back at the office door and then hurriedly turned away again.

"Thank you," said Hannah, taking the seat offered. "What seems to be the trouble, Dr. Foster?" She looked at Jaime as she spoke, but the girl stared hard at the edge of Dr. Foster's desk, apparently determined not to meet her mother's gaze.

"I'm sorry to call you in here, I know you must be busy," said Dr. Foster, "but several of Jaime's teachers have come to me with concerns about your daughter's performance in class."

"She's not doing well?"

"She's passing with fair enough grades," said Dr. Foster. "Jaime is smart, quick thinking, articulate, and shows promising leadership skills, and this all helps her get by. The general opinion of her teachers, however, is that she could well exceed average performance levels if she better applied herself."

"Her father and I aren't always around, and Jaime's had to move a lot based on our assignments," said Hannah. "It hasn't been easy on her, you understand."

"Of course," said Dr. Foster. "Many of our students are in similar situations. We try to accommodate them as best we can, but Jaime's behavior can be…disruptive."

Hannah sighed. Beside her, Jaime squirmed.

"She's suspected of being involved in many large scale pranks," Dr. Foster continued, "and when I spoke to your husband last week, I got the impression this isn't new information."

"Trouble has been known to follow Jaime," Hannah admitted, well aware of her daughter's love of such practical jokes. "Nothing has ever come of these suspicions, however." She glanced at Jaime and saw the girl smirk.

"Yes, her ability to keep from being caught doing anything technically against the rules would be impressive if it weren't so frustrating for the staff trying to keep this school running smoothly," said Dr. Foster. His tone became a little cool. "The same goes for several previously well behaved students who have become part of her friend group."

"Are Jaime's friends causing the trouble, then?" Hannah said.

Dr. Foster pursed his lips. "We can't confirm that. They have exhibited some mysterious behavior that coincided with school pranks, and we're certain these pranks couldn't have been completed alone, but, as with Jaime, we have nothing more than suspicions."

"What makes you think Jaime is responsible, then?" said Hannah. She knew well that Jaime was responsible, but there was no reason to let Dr. Foster in on this. She'd rather discipline Jaime herself. "One of her friends might have initiated the idea."

"Perhaps," Dr. Foster conceded, "but most of these students have spotless records and Jaime is the only new variable."

"I am not," said Jaime, finally speaking up. "You don't know what's going on in the lives of every kid in this school. Variables are _constantly_ changing."

"Thank you for the input, Jaime," said Dr. Foster, "but you are the only variable common to each student."

"As far as you know," Jaime mumbled. She glanced at Hannah and was silenced by the look she received.

"Jaime is also able to convince others to involve themselves in her…_activities_ so effectively that it borders on disturbing," said Dr. Foster as though he hadn't been interrupted.

Hannah frowned. "The ability to inspire others to follow is hardly disturbing."

"Perhaps not inherently so," said Dr. Foster, "but she can convince people to _do_ things. She has argued with several of her teachers and caused them to change their opinions."

"My daughter thinks for herself and presents her ideas convincingly," said Hannah. "I fail to see how that's a bad thing."

"It's not," said Dr. Foster, struggling to hide his frustration. "We encourage our students to be critical thinkers, but Jaime does so in a way that antagonizes her instructors. She consistently convinces them that she deserves a higher grade, even though she doesn't put in the same effort as other students."

Jaime snorted.

"I'd like to hear this from her teachers directly, if that's the case," said Hannah.

Dr. Foster sighed. "I can see if they'd be interested. It's not just them, however. There was an incident a couple days ago, for example. A fight."

This surprised Hannah. "Jaime was fighting?"

"No," said Dr. Foster, "but she convinced two students, previously good friends of one another, to fight."

Hannah relaxed a little. "Gossiping is not desirable, I know, but surely-"

"Lt. Shepard, the students had to be taken to the hospital," Dr. Foster interrupted. "One even _broke _the other's nose."

"Oh."

"I have no idea why Jaime would do this-"

"I'm sitting right here," said Jaime. "You could _ask_."

"-but such violence is an expellable offence here," Dr. Foster finished.

"I didn't do anything," Jaime protested. "Drake and Riley, on the other hand, bully kids younger than them because they're damn cowards."

"You'll watch your language in my office, Jaime," said Dr. Foster.

"It's true," Jaime insisted, ignoring him. She turned to Hannah. "My friend Lara says her little brother, Mitch, comes home crying almost every day because Riley makes fun of him for being friends with a disabled kid and Drake will actually _hit_ him. He'll straight up give Mitch bruises because hitting cripples is where he draws his ethical line, I guess, but friends of cripples are fair game. They are _assholes_, but the teachers don't do anything about it because Drake waits until after school and follows Mitch off campus before laying a hand on him, and also because Drake and Riley's parents are admirals where as Lara and Mitch's friend aren't from military families-"

"What Drake and Riley may or may not have done is not in question here," said Dr. Foster. "We're talking about you, Jaime."

"Fine," said Jaime. "Talk about me, then."

"As I was saying," said Dr. Foster, "Riley broke Drake's nose and they both sustained injuries that-"

"I'm sorry," said Jaime, "I thought we were talking about me now."

"You were the reason they were fighting," said Dr. Foster through gritted teeth.

"Was I? I heard they fought because Riley thought Drake was a coward for only beating on kids younger than him and Drake thought Riley was a coward for not beating on anyone and they decided to see who was tougher once and for all."

"They both cite you as the one who planted such ideas," said Dr. Foster.

"They specifically said she _planted_ them?" said Hannah, skeptical.

"I paraphrase," said Dr. Foster. "Do you deny this, Jaime?"

Jaime shrugged. "It's still not my fault they chose violence to settle their differences. Someone should talk to their parents." Jaime put on an expression of faux concern. "They seem really misguided."

Dr. Foster opened his mouth to retort, but Hannah interrupted. "What I think my daughter means is that she doesn't feel she should be held responsible for the conflict between two others, and I quite agree. Is Jaime actually being disciplined for anything?"

"Well, no," said Dr. Foster, his lips pursed. "Jaime hasn't actually broken any rules, so there's nothing we can do as long as her grades stay decent. We were just concerned about her behavior and wanted to let you know in case it escalated."

"And for that I thank you," said Hannah. "I assure you, I will discuss your concerns with Jaime further at home. If that is all…"

"Yes, yes, I suppose it is," said Dr. Foster.

Hannah stood and excused herself, and Jaime paused only to give Dr. Foster a quick mocking salute before following.

* * *

As they walked to their apartment, Jaime considered her position. She thought the meeting had gone quite well. She was initially worried when she heard it was her mother who would be meeting with Dr. Foster instead of her father. Hannah was a little stricter than Bryan Shepard, but the amount of times Hannah had just stood up for Jaime made the teenage girl hopeful. Maybe Hannah wasn't mad at all. Maybe Jaime wouldn't even be punished. Maybe-

"Jaime, why off earth are you antagonizing your teachers?"

-Hannah was waiting until they were clear of Dr. Foster's office to let her true feelings on Jaime's transgressions show. Damn.

"I'm not antagonizing them," said Jaime. "I just don't mindlessly accept everything they say as fact."

"Yes, well, I know you, dear, and you can sometimes be a bit aggressive when you disagree with someone."

"You're the one who said you want me to think for myself," said Jaime.

"It's one thing to be a critical thinker who shares her misgivings," said Hannah, "but you have to realize that, at the end of the day, you must respect your superiors' decisions."

"What if their decisions are wrong?"

"If they dismiss your misgivings, then that's that," said Hannah. "Ultimately, it's still their decision. Are you interested in joining the Alliance after high school or not?"

"Of course I'm interested."

"Yes, well, you do realize you'll have to follow orders, right?"

"Yeah," said Jaime. Hannah gave her a skeptical look, causing Jaime to make an exasperated noise. "_Yes, _I realize that."

Hannah sighed. "God willing, you'll have a hard ass drill sergeant who'll whip you into shape, otherwise you are going to have a tough military career, darling. Now, what about these kids you got suspended?"

"They're not kids. They're my age."

"You're sixteen."

"_Almost seventeen._ We're old enough to make our own decisions. I didn't make anyone do anything."

"You didn't _make_ them," said Hannah, "but I know how persuasive you can be."

"Whatever. They deserved it."

"They were_ suspended_, dear."

"Look, I heard them making fun of another kid whose dad was discharged for health reasons," Jaime said. "He fought in the First Contact War and has PTSD, and Riley was saying he lost it because he was a coward while Drake claimed he was just crazy. Where do they get off making those judgments? They've never even seen an alien, let alone a turian. I bet they'd shit themselves if they did."

"Jaime Alison, _language_."

"My point is, I can go on and on, listing terrible things they've said and done. They didn't lack for victims, and I don't regret that the kids those boys terrorize on a daily basis get a couple weeks at school where they don't have to worry about seeing their usual tormentors," said Jaime. "I'm not going to apologize for that."

"No, I don't imagine you will." Hannah gave her daughter an appraising look. "I'm proud of you for standing up for others, if that's truly your motivation. Your father says you enjoy manipulating people, however, and that is concerning if it's true."

Jaime shrugged. "Maybe. I promise to only use my powers for good, or at least not total evil."

"What a relief."

"Where is he, anyway?"

"Sorry?"

"Dad, where's Dad," said Jaime. Her mom wasn't particularly wordy, so Jaime looked for a facial reaction. "And how long have you been here? I didn't know you were home."

"I just got in," said Hannah. "Fresh off the transport, and the message from your principle was waiting for me when I arrived. I haven't even unpacked."

Jaime studied Hannah's face. _Translation: The frequency of your delinquent acts is invading my time off and I am not pleased._

"Sorry," said Jaime. "I don't want to ruin your shore leave or anything. If you promise to take me to the shooting range while you're off duty, I'll promise to get up to less trouble."

Hannah gave her a look. "Promise to put more effort into not getting caught, you mean."

Jaime held up her hands, palms outs. "Can't fight who I am, Mom."

Hannah smiled in spite of herself. "All right, deal."

"You didn't answer my question, though," said Hannah. "Where's Dad? I thought he wasn't back on duty until May. You don't happen to have the rare pleasure of shore leave at the same time, do you?"

"Actually, we do," said Hannah. The hesitation in her voice made Jaime frown.

"Okay," said Jaime, just as slowly. "What's up, really?"

"Nothing," said Hannah. "As you know, your father hasn't been feeling well lately. He decided to see a doctor and they thought he should get some tests done, so he's going in for overnight observation."

Jaime stopped walking. She knew her father had been feeling sick, but she hadn't thought he was _that _sick. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"We didn't want to worry you, dear." _Translation: There is reason to be worried._ "I got some time off to support him and look after you_." Translation: I'm scared this might be serious, so I came home. _"Come on, let's go back to the apartment. If you help me unpack, we can go see how he's doing."

Jaime had a thousand questions, and was frustrated that she'd been left out of the developing situation, but now was not the time to express those feelings. If her mother, Hannah "Alliance first, everything else second" Shepard had dropped everything to come home, then she was in a vulnerable place. Jaime wasn't about to add to that with her own concerns, and expressing her desire to be included in the discussion of important family issues could come after her father was healthy again.

"Yeah," said Jaime. "We need to get over there and rescue the doctors from him. You just know he's torturing them with horrible puns right now."

Hannah smiled. She put her arm around her daughter's shoulder and kissed her forehead in an expression of public affection so rare that Jaime was too shocked to squirm away in embarrassment.

"I missed you, kiddo," said Hannah.

"Yeah. I missed you too."

It was an automatic response, but Jaime realized she meant it.


	2. The Good Days

**Mass Effect: Interludes** _is a series of drabbles and short stories about my new Spacer, Jaime Shepard, that take place before, between, and after the _Mass Effect_ games. They are all a part of my headcanon for her._

_Disclaimer: The universe and characters belong to BioWare, EA, and the _Mass Effect_ team. I'm just playing around with them._

**Interlude #2: The Good Days**

_This story is pretty lengthy and not very Mass Effect related. I mean, it takes place in the Mass Effect universe, but it's more about Jaime Shepard and her family personally. In her last year of highschool, Jaime must learn how to cope with the possibility of losing a loved one. This story is my headcanon reason for why we don't hear from (specifically Jaime) Shepard's father in the games._

* * *

**April 6, 2171**

Jaime Shepard knew things were serious when her grandma arrived. Up until that point, she could brush off her concerns. Scans were inconclusive, so they could mean anything. More invasive tests showed growths, but they could be benign. Okay, they weren't benign, but these days there were lots of treatments and procedures for cancerous tumors. Nothing was certain.

Grandma Shepard's arrival, however, told Jaime that nothing was expected to change before her mother had to go back on duty. No one said it, but Jaime knew Grandma Shepard was there to look after her if her father wasn't well enough to do it himself. Jaime had to face up to the undeniable fact.

Her father was sick, and he wasn't getting better any time soon.

**April 11, 2171**

Having cancer of unknown primary meant Bryan Shepard needed a lot of tests to figure out the best treatment. He managed, however, to convince the doctors to let him skip a day and take his family out to celebrate his daughter's seventeenth birthday. In the Shepard family, that meant a trip to a shooting range.

"Please, no birthday pranks this year, darling," Hannah said to Jaime, who was spending her last day of shore leave with her family. Jaime suspected her mother was thinking of Jaime's sixteenth birthday aboard the Einstein, when the prank Jaime organized nearly resulted in an interspecies incident.

"I dunno," said Jaime. "Second birthday in a row with both my parents home? I think this acting-out-for-attention thing is working out great for me." She knocked her grandma playfully in the shoulder. "I even got my extended family this year."

"I notice you lack a date, however," said Grandma Shepard, and Jaime rolled her eyes. The elderly woman pulled a shotgun off one of the many racks and looked it over. It was so large that Jaime was surprised the eighty-one year old woman could hold it. "You should give this one a try."

"What have you got there, Mom?" asked Bryan.

"How should I know?" said Grandma Shepard. "You want to have a go with it, Jaime Alison?"

Whenever Hannah said both Jaime's names, it meant she was cross. When Bryan said both names, he was being affectionate. When Grandma Shepard said both names, it meant she felt she had some wise insight to offer.

"I'm not much of a shotgun person," Jaime said. "I prefer a heavy pistol."

"Careful with that, Eden," said Hannah. "The kickback will break your arm if you handle it badly."

"That's what medi-gel's for," said Grandma Shepard, waving her daughter-in-law away and turning back to Jaime. "These have a nice spread when fired, I hear. You can't miss with them."

"She doesn't need something she can't miss with," said Bryan. "She's an excellent shot, aren't you, Jaime Alison?"

"They're so heavy, too," said Jaime. "You waste half your energy just carrying them around, especially whatever monster you've got there, Grandma."

"It _feels_ good, though," said Grandma Shepard. "Like I'm a badass. Do I look like a badass?"

"All Shepards are badasses," said Bryan.

"Well, of course," said Grandma Shepard. "But do I_ look_ like a badass? Jaime's young and socially conscious; what do you think?"

"Were I to meet you in a dark back alley out on some Terminus Systems colony, I would be seized by an overwhelming terror and book it in the other direction," said Jaime.

"Damn right, you would," said Grandma Shepard. "Now, is someone gonna teach me how to shoot this thing or what?"

**April 23, 2171**

"The surgery went well," the doctor told Grandma Shepard. "We cleanly got out everything that showed up on the initial scans."

"So he's okay," said Jaime. "He'll get better now, right?"

The doctor shook his head. "We can't guarantee that. The problem with an unknown primary is that the tumors have already spread from the source, and, despite our tests, we don't know what that source is. We can't tell if and where more tumors might grow."

Jaime's shoulders sagged. She felt foolish. They had told her he was terminal. There was no better, there was only not worse, but the thought refused to totally sink in.

"Regardless, we have bought him some time," the doctor continued. What was his name? Johnson? Jenkins? His nametag was partially hidden by the way he held his clipboard. "He'll have to come in for regular check-ups. If things keep going this well, we can keep the tumors under control indefinitely." Indefinitely, but not forever. "He should be waking up any minute now, if you'd like to see him."

Jensen, Jaime remembered, his name was Dr. Jensen. "Can we take him home?"

"There's a little more paperwork to be done, but yes, he can go home tonight."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Grandma Shepard. She turned to Jaime as Dr. Jensen left them. "If you want to go check on your father, I can go send a message to your mother, tell her the – was that good news?"

"I don't know," said Jaime. "I don't think there is such a thing as good news in these situations."

"No," said Grandma Shepard, "I don't suppose there is."

**May 27, 2171**

Jaime was jolted awake by the sound of screaming. She threw herself out of bed and bolted down the hall to Bryan's room. Her breath caught in her throat at the sight of her father rigid with pain. Grandma Shepard called emergency transport while Jaime helped Bryan stand and walked him out of the apartment.

Jaime sat with her father in the back seat of the transport, holding him while he cried the way he used to hold her. She stroked his hair, repeating "You're okay, you'll be okay," like a mantra, and so long as she kept talking she wouldn't cry, wouldn't think about how much her father hurt, wouldn't give the incredible amount of fear building inside her the power to consume her, and she would will the words she whispered true.

**May 28, 2171**

The scan lit up like a mass relay. The cancer had spread and was in his lungs, his back, spotting all over his abdomen, and a dozen other places. Bryan Shepard's pain was caused by the tumors pressing against nerves. Most were inoperable, though there were treatments they could try to slow the tumors' growth. The most optimistic estimation of how long Bryan had to live, however, was a year.

Jaime was good at optimism, or at least good at denial, and took what she could get.

Still, no amount of prognoses given in hopeful tones or sympathetic smiles could make a year sound like enough time.

**September 14, 2171**

Once it was determined that there was little to be done, Bryan was allowed to go home. Jaime and Grandma Shepard were given the equipment required to care for him at the apartment, but sometimes they couldn't do enough for him and had to take him back to the hospital. This happened more and more frequently, until finally his time spent at the apartment was less than his time in the hospital. After school, Jaime took her homework with her to his room and stayed until the nurses kicked her out.

Bryan Shepard had always been a large man. He was big-boned with a square jaw and wide, high cheekbones. His thick eyebrows and dark eyes and hair made him look stern, and many found him intimidating. Jaime never had. What others found intimidating had always made her feel safe. As a child, she felt protected in his arms and powerful on his shoulders.

Watching him get smaller was the most consistently painful thing to witness. Jaime saw him every day, and the change was visible and constant.

**November 3, 2171**

While he did have to haul an oxygen tank around with him, Bryan was well enough on his 49th birthday to go for supper with Jaime and Grandma Shepard.

"I'm so sorry I'm not there," said the video version of Hannah from Jaime's omnitool for the umpteenth time.

"It's all right, I know how it is," said Bryan. "You must be close, to get live video through."

"I am, and I'll be staying once I get there. That's the good news I mentioned," said Hannah. "I'm being stationed on Arcturus. It's temporary, but I should be there for…awhile."

Jaime tensed at the pause. _Translation: I should be here until my husband dies._

"I'll get in late tomorrow evening, barring anymore unexpected delays," Hannah continued. "Jaime, what's your schedule like? I thought we could go shopping for your grad dress once I've settled in."

Jaime swallowed the mouth full of teriyaki stir-fry she'd been chewing. "Already? I have a whole semester and a half left."

"I know," said Hannah, "but that doesn't mean we shouldn't start looking."

"You'll have to come by the hospital and model it for me," said Bryan with a smile. He looked genuinely excited, but the whole conversation made Jaime uncomfortable.

_Translation: We'd like you to get your dress now because we don't think Dad will live to see you graduate._

**December 25, 2171**

"Your father seems happy," said Grandma Shepard from the kitchen sink where she was doing dishes. Jaime had walked in, leaving the living room crowded with her parents' friends and their families, hoping to escape the festivities. "I suppose he's glad to be well enough to join us. You, on the other hand, appear to be lacking the same Christmas spirit."

"I just need some time to myself, that's all," said Jaime.

"I hope time with just me will suffice, because I would love some help with these dishes," said Grandma Shepard. Jaime joined her by the sink and took over drying. "So," Grandma Shepard went on, "I hear you and Bryan had a bit of a row."

"It was nothing," said Jaime. "Stupid father daughter stuff."

"Stupid is right," said Grandma Shepard. "All he wants is to see your dress."

"Oh, not you too. I don't feel comfortable wearing it at the hospital," said Jaime.

"You know what else is uncomfortable? Dying. Give the man a break."

Jaime rolled her eyes. "It shouldn't be this big a deal. He'll see it when he sees it. But Mom wants me to _go figure out what to do with my hair at a salon_ and then see him in my dress because _that will be more convenient_ or something."

"That's not a terrible idea."

"Yes it is." Jaime slammed down the plate she was drying. "It's a terrible idea because that's her stupid excuse to get me to look how I'm going to when I graduate so that he can see me because they've given up any hope of Dad living that long."

"Jaime…"

"Do you think I became this stubborn on my own? That's a trait that runs in this family, you know that. It drives me nuts that now, when that kind of resolve is what we most need, they choose to give in."

"Jaime Alison, you listen to me," said Grandma Shepard, putting down the dishes in her hands. "Your parents have not given up. Quite the opposite. Your father _is_ dying. That is a fact."

"I know that," Jaime snapped. "But if he gives up, if he doesn't fight to the end-"

"Fighting has nothing to do with it," said Grandma Shepard. "Being brave and strong and hopeful doesn't stop disease. Your father has accepted his diagnosis and is going to fit as much living into the time that he has left as he can. That's not giving up. That's the best anyone can do."

Grandma Shepard turned back to the sink and picked up the dishes again. Jaime looked at her in silence for a moment before going back to drying.

"Why are you doing the dishes, anyway?" said Jaime. "We have a dishwasher."

"I find it therapeutic," said Grandma Shepard.

They stood in silence as they washed after that, and Jaime fell deep into thought. As horrible and terrifying as knowing she was going to lose her father was, it occurred to Jaime that it couldn't be nearly as horrible and terrifying as knowing you were going to lose your son.

**January 8, 2172**

Jaime couldn't tell how well Bryan was paying attention to the biotiball game. By the end, she thought he might have fallen asleep and so tried to leave his hospital room quietly.

"You're going already?" he said before she got to the door, surprising her.

"You seem tired," Jaime explained.

"Is it late?"

"No, not for me, but if you need to rest-"

"No," he said. "No, stay, if you can. I don't need to talk or anything, it's just nice having someone here, maybe holding my hand."

"Okay." Jaime put down her school stuff and pulled up a chair.

"Those can't be very comfortable," said Bryan.

"They're not," said Jaime. "I mean, aside from the whole cancer thing, you've got it made up there on that bed."

He laughed. "There's plenty of room. Come up here and we'll watch a vid."

"I'm okay," said Jaime. "I thought you wanted to rest, anyway."

"Come on, put on one of those mystery shows you like so much," said Bryan.

"You think they're boring."

"Exactly. I won't feel bad if I fall asleep, and you can still be entertained while keeping me company."

Jaime smiled and went to the entertainment console. She selected a random episode of her favourite old earth mystery series and put it on. Bryan patted an empty spot beside him on the bed.

"You sure?" said Jaime.

"Absolutely," said Bryan. "Look, kiddo, I may act tough-"

Jaime snorted. "Maybe around others." Around her, Bryan Shepard was a marshmallow. That was possibly why he had never intimidated her.

"-but sometimes I need some comforting," Bryan continued around the interruption. "So come and snuggle with your old man." His gruff, demanding tone contrasted so much with the words he said that Jaime laughed.

"Okay, okay, fine."

Jaime curled up on top of the covers, hugged his arm, and rested her head on his shoulders as the episode started. She wouldn't admit it, but she needed the comfort nearly as much as he did.

**January 12, 2172**

"Sit with me, Jaime Alison," said Bryan. Each word was said between labored breaths. He looked tired. Jaime glanced over her shoulder to the hall, where Dr. Jensen was talking to Grandma Shepard, before she perched herself on the edge of her father's bed. "The doctor is, right now, telling your grandma that we're nearing the end of it."

Jaime's heart pounded hard in her chest, her hands turned cold, and breathing became very difficult. Outwardly, however, she showed no change. "Okay."

"He told me you were here yesterday, and that I wasn't myself," Bryan said. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't worry about it," said Jaime. "He shouldn't have told you that happened, it wasn't a big deal. The nurses let us know what to expect at this…at this point."

"Still, it can't have been fun," said Bryan, "which makes my next request difficult. I want to go home, Jaime. I don't want to die in a hospital. Dr. Jensen said they could set that up, and with our Alliance health benefits, we can easily afford homecare-"

"Okay."

"No, Jaime, I want you to think about this seriously. There will be more of what happened yesterday, you're going to see the worst of-"

"I said okay, Dad," said Jaime. "I want you home. I know it won't be easy, but it was you who told me that things worth doing rarely are."

"That was a paraphrased Teddy Roosevelt quote."

"And a true one," said Jaime. "We'll take you home, Dad."

Bryan smiled, his eyes filling with tears. He pulled Jaime in close and kissed her on the cheek. His face was rough and unshaved and tickled her.

"You're a very brave girl, Jaime Alison."

**February 1, 2172**

If she had still been in the mindset she'd been in just a couple months earlier, Bryan's improved condition would have thrown Jaime back into full-fledged denial. As it was, she knew it meant he was closer to death than ever. It was his body's last gift to Bryan and his loved ones before shutting down permanently. Jaime didn't know how long it would last before his condition would get suddenly and dramatically worse again.

These thoughts kept Jaime silent and her hairdresser had long since given up trying to make small talk. She finally broke the silence to ask, "How's this?"

Jaime looked up into the mirror, pulled from her thoughts, and saw her long black hair done up in an elaborate knot. The screen in the mirror reflected the view from the hairdresser's omnitool, showing the back where a few choice locks of hair fell out in loose curls. Jaime studied her appearance for a moment and then forced a smile.

"It looks great, thank you," she said. It was true, though the joy of having fabulous hair wasn't quite sinking in the way it might have under normal circumstances. "Can you remember this when I come back in a few months?"

The hairdresser grinned. "Of course."

Jaime spent a little time in front of her bathroom mirror at the apartment to put on some make-up before trying on her dress. Then she took it off again. She had barely finished hanging it up before she pulled it from the hanger and put it back on. She was nearly halfway down the hall to her father's room before she turned around and changed again. This continued for nearly a half hour. After staring at the dress on its hanger in nothing but her underwear for another entire minute, Jaime slowly and carefully put the dress back on and stayed in it. She was unsure at what point in the process she had started crying.

Jaime sat on her bed and wept, unsure of how much time was passing. Each sob racked her body and she buried her mouth in her hands for fear of being heard. When the tears finally subsided and the hiccups stopped, she returned to the bathroom, carefully washed her face without ruining her hair, put in eye drops to clear up her red eyes, and reapplied her make-up. She spent another five minutes after that appraising her appearance, then walked quickly down the hall, stopped abruptly with her hand hovering over the door controls, and then decided to knock.

"Come in," came her father's voice, sounding stronger than it had in weeks. He smiled when he saw his daughter. "Ah. What's the occasion?"

"No occasion," said Jaime, lifting the skirt of her dress and walking to his bedside. "I'm just trying out my look for grad. What do you think?"

Bryan was beaming. "You look stunning, kiddo."

"That's it, then," said Jaime. "Bryan Shepard approval means this is the final design. This is what I'll look like at graduation."

"Excellent," said Bryan. "Any other predictions of how that day will go?"

"Hm," said Jaime. "All kinds of academic awards, I expect. I'll be voted most likely to succeed at everything by me adoring classmates, and, in a stunning twist, Dr. Foster will give an impassioned speech about how I'm the best student to have ever graced his school. He'll hand me my diploma with tears in his eyes and tell me that he secretly loved the excitement all the school wide pranks brought into his life and the lives of his students, and then he'll add, with a wink, that whoever was responsible is a genius."

"This ceremony sounds truly moving," said Bryan.

"It will be," said Jaime. "Moving, but short and sweet, without the expected boring speeches. Instead of a valedictorian speech, there will be a valedictorian interpretive dance."

"Very entertaining, I'm sure."

"Yes, it will be a very proud day for you."

"Every day is a proud day for me, Jaime Alison," said Bryan.

**February 10, 2172**

It was Jaime's first military funeral. She planned on joining the Alliance after graduation, and so she supposed it wouldn't be her last. Men she didn't know and a few she did gave speeches, flags were draped over a shiny metallic coffin, and nearly everyone around her was in their formal Alliance uniforms.

_Bryan L. Shepard,_ the bulletin informed those in attendance, _passed away on February 4, 2172._

_Passed away,_ thought Jaime. _What a weird phrase._

**June 18, 2172**

"Here," said Hannah, handing a small box to Jaime. "This is for you."

Jaime turned away from the mirror, pausing her make-up application to receive her mother's gift.

"A graduation present?" said Jaime.

"Of a sort," said Hannah. Jaime regarded her with an expression of curiosity and then opened the box.

Inside were Bryan's dog tags.

Jaime stared at them in silence for a moment, feeling an old familiar cold in her hands and lump in her throat. She swallowed and then met her mother's eyes.

"You don't want them?" she asked.

"I have this," said Hannah, holding up her left hand. In addition to her wedding ring was Bryan's, resized to fit her hand but made of the exact same gold. "It didn't seem fair that you didn't have something similar."

"Thank you," said Jaime. She set the box on the bathroom counter and put the tags on. She let them fall into the front of her dress, by her heart.

"You look stunning, Jaime Alison," said Hannah. Her voice was so steady that it took Jaime a moment to realize she was crying. That revelation was enough to keep Jaime from noticing that both her names were used by Hannah not in frustration, but with affection. Perhaps this registered on a subconscious level, however, because Jaime responded by gathering her mother into her arms.

"He would be so proud of you," said Hannah, her voice muffled in Jaime's shoulder. _Translation: He should be here to tell you that himself._

"I know," said Jaime. "I miss him, too."


	3. Shore Leave

**Mass Effect: Interludes** _is a series of drabbles and short stories about my new Spacer, Jaime Shepard, that take place before, between, during, and after the _Mass Effect_ games. They are all a part of my headcanon for her._

_Disclaimer: The universe and characters belong to BioWare, EA, and the _Mass Effect_ team. I'm just playing around with them._

**#3: Shore Leave**

_Taking advantage of their brief shore leave between transports, Jaime Shepard has a drink with some friends from her unit on her 23rd birthday._

___Jaime's in-game progress at time of writing: Well over halfway done _Mass Effect 2.

* * *

**April 11, 2177**

Shepard showed up at Dublin Off-World a good half an hour later than she'd been invited to. Given almost an entire day's worth of shore leave, several soldiers from her unit had decided to meet at the pub to take full advantage of their night off.

"Shepard!" called a young woman. She waved from a table near the bar and Shepard made her way over.

"Nazaryan," said Shepard to the woman, taking a seat beside her. She turned to the other eight at the table, acknowledging each in turn. "Bells, Arakawa, Dressel, Corzett, Chieppa, Mulkern, Toombs, Young. Good to see you all letting your hair down." She glanced at Chieppa, whose head was cleanly shaven. "Figuratively speaking."

"We wondered if you were coming," said Mulkern, who had literally let her dark hair down. It almost reached her waist. Shepard hadn't realized how long it really was, as the marine usually had it tied back in a tight bun. "Toombs was saying you weren't for the club scene."

"I haven't been to enough clubs to know if I'm for their scenes or not," said Shepard.

"That's what I actually said," Toombs insisted. "Mulkern twisted my words. I knew what you meant, that you'd be here."

"This is a pub, anyway," said Arakawa. "Totally different."

"Wish there were somewhere to dance on this tiny station," said Chieppa. "I'm feeling restless."

"Seconded," said Nazaryan. "You dance, Shepard?"

"The idea appeals to me, I just have no idea if I'm any good at it," said Shepard. "Like I said, I haven't really gone clubbing."

"Everyone is good at dancing, given enough alcohol," said Chieppa.

"On that note," said Young, and he turned in his seat to catch the attention of the bartender. She stayed where she was but gave him a nod of encouragement. "Another round," Young called to her and she nodded again, disappeared below the bar, and emerged moments later with several fresh bottles of beer.

"You're sure there's nowhere to dance here?" said Chieppa. He did a few moves in his seat to demonstrate his enthusiasm.

"Just dance here, Chieppa," said Dressel. The bartender passed out their beverages. "This is the only place to drink on this tiny rest stop, let alone dance. I can't even remember the name of where we are, this station's so small."

"If I did know it, I wouldn't plan on being able to remember," said Nazaryan. "Our transport arrives tomorrow night, thus I plan to spend the better part of tomorrow recovering from a hangover."

"You _want_ a hangover?" said Shepard.

"No," said Nazaryan, "but I want the kind of night that inevitably results in one."

"Will you be having the same as your friends?" the bartender / apparently waitress asked Shepard.

"Might as well," said Shepard, taking the beer offered. She turned her attention back to her fellow marines. "Anyone else coming?" Most of the members she was closest to were there, but their unit comprised of another forty-one people.

"I thought Beaker would be here," said Bells.

"Nah, Beaker takes assignments too seriously to risk being indisposed, even on a travel day," said Toombs.

"Oh, come on, really?" said Chieppa.

Toombs shrugged. "She didn't seem too enthused when I spoke to her."

"You're just being self conscious. She was plenty enthused, I'm sure," said Bells. "She'll be here."

Arakawa shook his head. "I talked to her too. Beaker is serious about her duties. She'll stay in tonight."

"Even though _Toombs_ invited her?" said Mulkern, throwing him a knowing wink. Toombs attempted to brush it off with a casual shrug.

"We should kidnap her, drag her out," said Nazaryan. "The girl works too hard."

"I think it's admirable how devoted she is to her duty," said Toombs.

"You would," said Mulkern. Toombs shot her a look.

"She's off duty right now, though," said Nazaryan. "She in the barracks? I'll go get her."

"Don't push it," Shepard warned. "Beaker's not as comfortable in big social crowds anyway. If you force her out with us, she won't have any fun. She's gotta relax and come on her own."

Nazaryan raised her eyebrows. "Like you couldn't talk her into it. Or has our unstoppable force finally met an immovable object?"

"Have you ever been on the receiving end of Beaker's death glare?" said Shepard. "Talk to me again once you have."

"We should send Toooooombs to convince her," said Mulkern. They all knew about the mutual but unresolved crush between Toombs and Beaker, but the way Mulkern was pushing it made Shepard suspect the woman was already tipsy.

"What were you doing before you got here, Shepard?" Toombs asked, pointedly ignoring Mulkern.

"Right, sorry I'm a little late," said Shepard. "I was just reading a message from my mother. She sent me some credits for my birthday, so drinks are on me tonight."

"Wait, hold up," said Nazaryan, so loudly that she pulled Corzett, Dressel, and Young from whatever separate conversation they had fallen into. "It's your birthday?"

"By the Alliance calendar, yeah," said Shepard. "I turned twenty-three today."

"In that case, I refuse to accept your offer to pay for our drinks," said Nazaryan.

"You were going to pay for us?" said Corzett. "Shepard, no, of course not. _We'll_ cover _your_ drinks."

"Speak for yourselves," said Chieppa.

Shepard laughed, but Corzett shot him a look before turning to her and saying with earnest, "It's your birthday, Shepard, and it would be my pleasure to cover you."

"You may regret saying that later.," said Shepard. "I can drink quite a bit."

"Have you had a good one so far?" asked Young.

"As well as I could, being on a transport for most of it," said Shepard. "It was good to hear from my mom. She's Alliance too, so we don't often get a chance to catch up. It's got to be over two years since I last saw her in person."

"Hey, I didn't know you were a fellow Alliance brat," said Arakawa. "Cheers, Shepard."

Shepard clinked her bottle to his, drank, and then continued. "I also got a package from my grandma, who I haven't even _heard _from in well over a year."

"What sort of package?" asked Nazaryan with renewed interest.

"Guess," said Shepard. "Guess what my crazy grandmother sent me."

"Shepard, I have no clue," said Nazaryan.

"It was an impossible demand," admitted Shepard. "None of you could have guessed. It was a hatchet."

Arakawa blinked. "Like…an axe?"

"A little axe which one might take on camping trips, yes. Not electronic, not collapsible, an honest to God old fashioned hatchet."

"But….why?" Arakawa was completely bamboozled.

"I honestly have no idea," said Shepard. "She hasn't sent me so much as a message for endless months, and then…hatchet."

"How old is she?" asked Dressel.

"If you're asking if she's become senile in her old age, I don't know," said Shepard. "She's always been a bit spontaneous, so it's probably just something she sent me on a whim. I'd send her a message of thanks, or confusion, but I have no idea where to send it. Honestly, I wasn't even sure she was still alive."

"Not close, then?" said Arakawa.

"Used to be," said Shepard. "She was around a lot when my dad got sick and for awhile after he passed on, but staying in contact with her after I joined the Alliance was tricky. Neither of us are known for our stellar communication skills even under the best of circumstances, so we drifted apart."

"Until, suddenly, hatchet," said Nazaryan.

Shepard laughed and nodded. "Until, suddenly, hatchet."

"Well, it's no wilderness survival tool, but my gift of alcohol offer still stands," said Corzett.

"Tell you what," Shepard told her friends, "if I have enough liquid courage, I'll be able to ignore any and all death glares. A few more drinks, and I will not only convince Beaker to come out, but I'll have her thinking it was her idea."

The group cheered, including a particularly enthusiastic Mulkern. Shepard and Toombs exchanged a smile.

"And once you're back from your successful mission," said Chieppa, "we will continue to buy you drinks until you're ready to try dancing as though this were a proper club."

"Chieppa, you got me to sing at karaoke after the Skyllian Blitz," said Shepard, "I have no doubt you'll likewise get me to dance before this Akuze investigation."

"Let's start with a round of shots!" Nazaryan said. Her voice carried, and soon the bartender/waitress was taking their orders.

"To Shepard," said Arakawa when their shots arrived, holding his small glass up in a toast the others joined. "Alliance bred, born, and raised."

"To Shepard!" echoed the rest. "Happy birthday!"


	4. Continued Correspondence

**Mass Effect: Interludes** _is a series of drabbles and short stories about my latest Spacer, Jaime Shepard, that take place before, between, during, and after the _Mass Effect_ games. They are all a part of my headcanon for her._

_Disclaimer: The universe and characters belong to BioWare, EA, and the _Mass Effect_ team. I'm just playing around with them._

**#4: Continued Correspondence**

_After the traumatic events of Akuze, twenty-three year old Jaime Shepard exchanges messages with family (mostly her elusive grandmother) and an Alliance assigned psychiatrist._

_If you finish reading this Interlude and wonder what "..the thing we Shepards swore never to bring up" is and if it was mentioned before and you just missed it, don't worry, you didn't. It hasn't been brought up before. Because it was a sad (and embarrassing) time for young Jaime and thus the Shepards swore to never speak of it again, that's why._

_Jaime's in-game progress at time of writing: Nearing the end of _Mass Effect 2.

* * *

**To:** Jaime A. Shepard

**Subject:** Back on the horse

Hey honey,

I heard you went back on active duty yesterday. I hope keeping your mind on work does you some good. It was good to see some colour back in your cheeks last week. I hope our schedules match up so I can see you again soon.

I expect the Alliance recommended a psychiatrist to you. They usually do after something like this. You don't have to tell me anything, but if they did and you started sessions, I want to encourage you to find a way to keep that up now that you're back in space. It's important you not go through this alone.

Congratulations on your promotion. I'm so proud of you.

Love,

Your mom, Hannah Shepard

* * *

**To:** Dr. Bloom

**Subject:** Continuing from where we left off

I thought about your suggestion more, but I still have to disagree. I'm not going to stop listing my fallen squad mates before I sleep. They deserve to be the last thing I think of every day. I just know that if I forget one name, one face, for even a moment in the coming years, all the progress we've made with managing my guilt will be undone. I know it. I stopped for a couple nights on your suggestion, and it felt wrong. I still had nightmares, maybe even worse ones.

You know I respect and value your advice, but I think you were off on this one.

- J. Shepard

* * *

**To:** Jaime A. Shepard

**Subject:** Re: Continuing from where we left off

Hey Shepard, it's great to hear from you. I'm glad we agreed to continue our sessions online. It's not always as effective as in-person sessions or live chats, but I hope we can continue making progress this way.

There are ways I can see listing your lost friends helping. Doing this for them, however small it may seem, is a way of honouring them, and that's all you can do. I will admit that I do still have reservations over this practice. While it's important to remember those we couldn't save so that we can learn from them and do better for them, it's important to look to the future. I worry that this ritual will ultimately slow your progress by keeping you looking into your past and stalling in regret instead of helping you grow in the future. However, you know you better than I do. I have shared my thoughts, but I trust your judgment to make the right choice for you.

Do you mind sharing your nightmares with me? How often do they occur? Are they recurrences of ones we've discussed before, or new ones? How are your anxiety levels now that you're back in action, so to speak?

Take care,

Dr. Caroline Bloom

* * *

**To:** Jaime A. Shepard

**Subject:** You and your mother both

Glad to hear you're not dead, kiddo.

Can't believe I had to hear about this awful Akuze business from the news before anyone else. I mean, I understand why you were indisposed and couldn't tell me, but your mother? This damn family's falling apart, I swear.

Word is your back in the field or whatever. Hope you're doing okay.

Love,

Grandma

* * *

**To:** Eden Shepard

**Subject:** Re: You and your mother both

Glad to hear _you're_ not dead, Grandma. Honestly, we never hear from you anymore. How was Mom supposed to know where to contact you about me? I'm glad you've messaged me now, though. Even if I don't know where you are, at least I can send you a message.

I'm doing okay, thanks for asking. As well as can be expected. I got promoted for all my trouble, so I suppose that's all right. Silver lining and all that.

Love,

Jaime

PS - Speaking of things I never got to message you about because god knows where in the galaxy you've been, what's with my 23rd birthday present? A hatchet? Really?

* * *

**To:** Dr. Bloom

**Subject:** Re: re: Continuing from where we left off

1) I mind a little, but I will anyway.

2) Every night, basically. Sometimes multiple variations in one night.

3) There are a couple of new nightmares, but none have super hidden meanings. The latest didn't involve the thresher maw at all, but a game of Russian roulette being played with my unit using an old revolver with bullets. Instead of all the chambers being empty but one, all the chambers were full except one and, somehow, there were enough shots in the damn thing to kill everyone except me. I did some pretty _deep_ and _serious_ reflecting on that one and I think it _might_ be possible that it's another manifestation of survivor's guilt _maybe._

4) My anxiety has, thus far, been manageable. I haven't gone out with an away team yet, and I am worried about that. I know you gave me the all clear to go back to work, but I honestly don't know how I'll react when I'm put back in that environment. It makes me wish they'd done some sort of field test on me first to figure out if I'm really up to it. If it turns out I'm not, it could cost lives.

- J. Shepard

* * *

**To:** Jaime A. Shepard

**Subject:** Re: re: re: Continuing from where…

Sarcasm aside, I think you're right about your dreams. No hidden meanings there. The change from an attack to a game might be worth analyzing, but we don't have to discuss them further if you don't want to. I would, however, like you to elaborate on your worries about going out into the field. Are you worried about another unexpected danger taking you by surprise, or that something will negatively affect your performance with even a routine mission? Are you worried about having more flashbacks? Reflecting on the source of your anxiety can help you work through it. Try writing down what you're worried about anytime you can pinpoint a source. You have saved lives in the past, and the situation on Akuze was out of your control; what makes you think you may not be up to future assignments?

Take care,

Dr. Caroline Bloom

* * *

**To:** Jaime A. Shepard

**Subject:** Birthday present

Still not dead, I see, well done. Good point about the not knowing where to contact me. I guess we could both make a better effort to let each other know when we're alive. I'm getting up there in years, after all. I could go any second, really.

Oh, did you like the hatchet? I initially thought about getting you a pet of some kind, but I couldn't think of anything that you could easily take with you and hide from your superior officers, and then I also remembered that unfortunate incident when your parents got you fish as a kid. I know I shouldn't bring that up. It was traumatic for us all. Your mother faithfully pretends it never happened to this day. Anyway, I was going through my stuff while packing – I got bored of Earth so I've been going between colonies, looking for a place to settle – and I found five hatchets. Reminded me of you and I knew your birthday was coming up, so I sent it to you.

You know, reading over what I've written so far, it occurs to me that the beginning of this message may be insensitive. You probably don't want to talk about my inevitable demise by the hand of God and time. How are you holding up? Do you want to talk about what happened?

Love,

Grandma

* * *

**To:** Eden Shepard

**Subject:** Re: Birthday present

Nice to hear from you again, Grandma. God and/or time hasn't seen fit to take you yet, so that's good news.

I was going to ask why hatchets made you think of me, not to mention why you had five to begin with, but, at this point, all your answers to my questions are just creating more questions. And I'm just gonna go right ahead and pretend you didn't bring up the thing we Shepards swore never to bring up.

Thank you for offering, but I have a therapist to dump my feelings on. You're not being insensitive; at least, I don't feel that way. Honestly, it's just good to hear from you. Sure, hearing from you is baffling sometimes (this is me still not asking about the five hatchets) (also, you got bored of Earth? _The whole planet?),_ but that's a familiar feeling with you, really. I mean that in the best way possible. It's been a long time since I've casually talked to family like this, and I think I need some of that right now. It feels nice and normal. Well, normal for us. And I could use some normalizing elements in my life. So don't worry about being insensitive. Just keep being you.

Love,

Jaime

* * *

**To:** Jaime A. Shepard

**Subject:** FUN FACTS

DID YOU KNOW:

THAT ELCOR MATING RITUALS CAN TAKE UP TO THREE WEEKS?

THAT ASARI CAN MATE WITH ANY SEX OF ANY SPECIES?

THAT DRELL FLEXIBILITY PEAKS AT AGE 32? I don't know what drell are but if you ever meet one around the age of thirty-two I _might_ understand how a human could possibly become romantically (see also: sexually) involved with an alien species. Still feels a bit like…_something_phelia, though.

THAT TURIANS AQUIRED A TASTE FOR HUMAN TONGUES AFTER SHANXI?

Probably most of those aren't true. I searched "shocking facts about aliens" on the extranet and selected the first links that showed in hopes of finding content for my next message with which to baffle you. I hope I normalized your face off.

Lots of love,

Grandma

* * *

**To:** Eden Shepard

**Subject:** Re: FUN FACTS

Good to hear from you, yay you're not dead, etc.

Okay, that one about the turians is definitely not true since their biology is dextro-protein based and therefore I'm pretty sure eating our tongues would make them sick, but this drell thing is worth fact checking. I don't know what a drell is either, but my interest has been piqued. Side note: Why were most of those facts related to alien sex? (Maybe don't answer that.)

Well, that was sufficiently baffling (the all-caps was a nice touch). I'm feeling more and more at home with every message.

Love,

Jaime

* * *

**To:** Jaime A. Shepard

**Subject:** Checking in

Hey Shepard. I haven't heard from you in awhile, so I'm just checking in. Hopefully, the fact that you haven't needed to contact me is a good thing.

Take care,

Dr. Caroline Bloom

* * *

**To:** Dr. Bloom

**Subject:** Re: Checking in

I've been okay. Not bad, not great, just somewhere in-between. My grandma and I have been writing each other regularly, something we haven't done since my dad passed away, and it's nice. It's a connection that feels safe, I guess. I also tried writing my anxieties down like you suggested – I invested in an honest to god paper notebook to minimize the chance of someone finding my so-called Journal of Feelings – and I think it does actually help. I felt a little stupid at first, but it forces me to reflect on things I might otherwise try to repress.

My crewmates treat me strangely. I try to behave normally around them, but everyone knows about what happened on Akuze and there are two ways people respond to it: They either treat me like I'm made of glass and go out of their way to not bring up anything that might remind me of Akuze, or they bring up Akuze like it was a big adventure for me and they're hoping for a good story. There doesn't seem to be an in-between; it's one extreme or the other.

I'm sorry I haven't been writing, I've just been very busy. I went on my first away mission since returning to duty. I was the most anxious I've been in awhile leading up to it, and all that anxiety came rushing back once it was done, but the actual away mission was fine. I don't know, maybe being in a situation where my training takes over doesn't give me space to worry. I feel in control. If I can learn to calm myself enough to get my reports in on time afterwards, then I'll be okay. It's not perfect, but it makes me feel as though things are getting better.

I'll try to update you more often. If I'm going to continue getting better, then I'm going to need your help.

Thanks.

J. Shepard


End file.
